The Decaying World Saga (Book 1): Tribes of Decay

by Garza, Michael W.

  Duncan rubbed his hands together and tried to blow some life back into his fingers.

  “We should’ve gotten out of here when we had the chance.”

  Limmy kept his mouth shut and took another swing with his pickaxe. Duncan was prepared to wait him out. The four other members of the detail were moving the last pile of dirt topside for a dump off. The long climb up the stairs to the surface would buy Duncan plenty of free time. Limmy took a big swing and the familiar thud was lost in a stunning result from the impact. The edge of the tool tore through the mud leaving a hole the size of Limmy’s head.

  “What the…?” Duncan stumbled forward and picked one of the lanterns up off the floor as he went. “You lucky son of a bitch,” he said then scratched at the week old stubble on his cheek. “We may not freeze to death after all.” Duncan took another step closer, set the lantern down at the foot of the dirt, and pulled the pickaxe pole from Limmy’s grip.

  “We should wait until-”

  Limmy’s suggestion was lost under Duncan’s grunt as he pulled back and took a swing. The impact from the tool caused a shift in the wall of dirt and the distress caused one entire side to collapse from the center of the tunnel to the far wall. The dust settled and Duncan glared back at Limmy. It took a few moments for either of them to find their voice.

  “You all right?”

  Duncan was still mentally working through what happened and couldn’t process the question. He took a deep breath once the pounding in his chest slowed down enough to convince him he wasn’t about to have a heart attack. Limmy found the thought he was trying to get across before Duncan took his swing.

  “We should wait until the others get back down here,” he said. “Mia will want to know about this too.”

  It was Duncan’s turn to roll his eyes. He couldn’t stand the thought of getting his orders from a woman. Especially one as young as her. Are far as he was concerned, the only thing that pretty little hero was good for was waiting for him to get back to his room after a long day at work. He also knew there were plenty of those within the newly christened Tribe of Canaan that would cut his head off if he even hinted at harming a hair on her head.

  “No one’s been down here since the detonation,” Duncan said.

  “So?”

  “So, since we made the opening,” Duncan surmised, “we should at least get first dibs on anything left worth finding.”

  Limmy took a long look down at the other end of the tunnel. There was no way to be sure how much time they had before the rest of the detail returned. Duncan watched the taller man’s face scrunch up as he finished whatever mental calculation he needed to complete. His response was to the point.

  “Let’s do it fast and get out before they come back.”

  Duncan didn't need to hear anything else. He scooped up the lantern and grabbed his sidearm. It was assumed that any of the infected trapped down in the hives would have died off by now but the dead had a way of hanging on for a long time. Duncan silently told himself that he hadn’t made it this far to get himself eaten now.

  “Let’s go.”

  The tunnel on the other side of the blockage was surprisingly clear and open. Duncan couldn’t process the abnormality at the moment. He was too fixated on what he might find waiting for him in one of the long abandoned rooms. He figured he could finally get out on his own if he could find some supplies. The tribal council held a tight grip on the few scraps that remained.

  The first hall came to an abrupt end, the lantern light revealing a split passage running off into the darkness on either side. Limmy’s face was easy to read, this time showing a growing hesitation. Duncan jumped on the problem before it had a chance to change his mind.

  “Just a little farther,” he said. “If we don't come across anything soon we’ll head back and wait for the others to come down.” Duncan added more for an extra push. “I’ll give the news to Mia myself.”

  Limmy’s shoulders relaxed and Duncan figured he’d bought himself a little more time. He tried to remember what he knew about the layout of hive five. There wasn’t much to pull from considering he spent a majority of his time on patrols out in the remains of the nearby city of Cheyenne. A quick spark of recognition pulled his eyes to the location indicator marked on the wall near the ceiling. The fading letters flashed in his mind like a firework.

  “I was assigned to a training group near here once,” he said.

  “So?”

  “So, they housed us in this sector for a few days,” Duncan said as his memory attempted to fill in the details. “And we were given daily rations each morning from a storage unit.”

  Limmy locked on to him the moment the word rations left his lips.

  “Let’s go find it.”

  ♦

  Someone was standing in the dark. Limmy saw it first. Duncan heard the rising guttural growl long before Limmy grabbed a hold of his wrist. They backed up together and made it several paces before the figure started toward them. A heartbeat before Limmy and Duncan turned to run the pale lantern light revealed the outline of more bodies behind the first.

  The dead shuffled out of open doorways as they pushed into the hall after the fresh meat. Limmy’s long legs pulled him out in front. Duncan squeezed the grip of his gun until his knuckles turned white. He fought the urge to turn the weapon on the growing mass of dead behind them. His heart pounded in his chest as a single message ran over and over in his mind, get back to the breach. Duncan called out as Limmy disappeared around a turn ahead of him.

  “Don’t leave me.”

  He rounded the corner and slammed into Limmy coming back in the opposite direction. The two hit with enough force to send them down on to the cold, dirty floor. The back of Duncan’s head bounced off the metal plate and the world spun around him as he tried to get back up on his feet. A flood of stench washed through the hall, saturating everything at once. Duncan gagged on the putrid aroma, nearly purging his guts in the process. A chorus of death howls followed the stench rising above Duncan’s terror induced cries as he tried to find his gun. His hand slipped over the lantern handle as he got to his knees, but his sidearm was lost somewhere in the darkness.

  Limmy reached his feet first, pulling on Duncan as he tried to run. Duncan was up and moving before he realized another group of the undead were shuffling toward them from the far end of the hallway beyond the turn. The light from the lantern slid from one wall to the other. Duncan stumbled over his feet and felt his boot kick his handgun. He heard the metal slide farther down the hall into the dark.

  He hunched over and took several long steps, sliding his free hand across the floor in an effort to find the gun. The panic rushing through his veins wouldn’t allow him a moment longer and he kept moving forward unarmed. It wasn’t until he turned his attention on the way ahead that he realized Limmy had vanished. His mind raced. Duncan had no idea how to get back to the breach and the realization increased the terror consuming his mind. His response was instantaneous.

  “Where the hell are you?”

  Duncan reached a pace far beyond his natural ability and his horrified blindness almost sent him face first into a pile of rock and debris. He slid across the dirt-laden floor coming to a stop as the tip of his nose tapped the centermost stone. The entire end of the hall had collapsed in on itself and the result was impassable. Duncan spun around and the bottom of the lantern smacked the rock knocking it out of his hand. The result played out in his mind in slow motion. The lantern rolled down the hall bouncing twice before it smashed on the floor.

  The hallway lit up in an instant as the flames from the lantern splashed across the ground and up both sides of the passage. The light revealed the true measure of the situation. The dead were packed in tight. The front row of decomposing bodies sparked to life as the fuel from the lantern splashed their tattered clothes.

  The moans grew with intensity as the flames took hold. The mass behind the front row pressed forward, knocking their compatriots to the ground. The trampli
ng began as Duncan raced to flee the madness. He had a single hope of escape.

  The purpose of the room was lost under mounds of dust and dirt, but Duncan wasn’t looking for conveniences. The dead lined the halls, each one of them lusting after a taste of his tender flesh. Duncan slammed into a pile of cots, flipping them across the room in the process. He managed to stay on his feet as he scanned the chamber for another exit.

  “Do you need a little help?”

  The sudden sound of the words hit Duncan with profound force, bringing him to a dead stop. His jittery eyes swept across the dim room and settled on a shadowy outline standing in the center of an open doorway on the opposite side. Duncan focused on the figure, piecing together the man’s unsettling details in the back of his mind as he rushed toward him. Duncan stumbled forward, falling to his knees. He grabbed the man’s hands and pleaded for his life.

  “Yes, yes. Please help me.”

  The new arrival looked down at him and the sight sent a vicious shock through Duncan’s mind. Pure black eyes pierced his heart. Decaying skin showed the marks of the infection rushing through his veins. The figure opened his mouth and smiled as he spoke.

  “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  Duncan tried to push himself away, but he was too slow to react. The man grabbed two fistfuls of hair and forced his head back. He leaned down and opened his mouth wide, biting into Duncan’s throat. Duncan screamed for his life as teeth tore through his skin. The last thing he heard as his blood gushed from the wound was the mob of the dead pressing into the room behind him to join in on the feast.

  2

  Mia was frustrated. It was a state she’d become used to over the past few months. The celebration of the newly formed Tribe of Canaan was short lived. Her role quickly changed from a sword-toting hero to a sleep-deprived administrator.

  In truth her frustration didn’t rest with the council members currently arguing over supply restrictions. Mia wanted to know where Rowan was. He’d grown more distant with every tribal meeting he was asked to attend, until he stopped showing up. To make matters worse, Mia’s younger brother Jonah followed him around, mimicking everything he did. She was convinced that her problems were too much for any seventeen-year-old to deal with.

  Mia closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. The view of the room came back to her and she allowed herself to focus on the tribe’s current predicament. The conference room was more or less in the same state it had been prior to Mia setting off the compound’s defense system. The half dozen underground hive-structures were left in various states of destruction. Under the council’s guidance the surviving tribal members, along with some of the former soldiers and residents who were allowed to stay, had managed to rebuild some semblance of life. Winter however, was pushing their new found, fragile existence to the brink.

  “Are you all right?”

  Asher’s whispered question didn’t cause Mia to shake. He slid his fingers gently over her wrists to get her attention. She looked at him and smiled.

  “Yes,” she said. “I guess my mind is somewhere else today.”

  “You need to sleep,” he said in a familiar show of concern. “These problems will still be here when you get up.”

  Mia’s smile widened. She scanned the faces of the dozen or so council members sitting around the table. Most of them were too absorbed in the ongoing debate to notice her side conversation. Mia felt a twinge of guild ride up the back of her neck. Asher had been an engineer for the commission that once ruled the compound at Canaan like a military fortress. He’d had to explain to her what that title meant. Her limited knowledge of the old world often left her confused when interacting with those who’d grown up in and around the compound. Asher was a few years older than her but his slight frame hid the difference in age. The constant look of contemplation frozen on his face only cracked for her. She’d begun to lean on him more and more for assistance with tribal matters and she had an inkling that Rowan had taken note of that too.

  “Please,” she said rising up from her seat. “I believe we all know there are more pressing matters than this at hand.” The room went silent, everyone turning to face her. Mia retook her seat. “Marcus, if you would.” She motioned at an empty chair midway around the table and the man dressed in the former guards attire of full black fatigues stepped away from the door and took the seat. “Please give us your report.” As head of the scout teams, Marcus’ accounts were as important to the council as the daily food and ration tally.

  “We were twelve days out, south by southwest,” he began, his eyes swinging around the table from left to right. “And we saw the horde of the dead for ourselves.”

  There was a gasp in the room from a majority of the members, but Mia managed to keep her emotions in check. The outbursts caught Marcus by surprise and he looked to her for guidance.

  “Please continue,” she said.

  “I can confirm the information we received from the wanderers we encountered a month ago,” he explained in no uncertain terms. “The horde is moving directly toward us. I’ve positioned a team on the southern border of Cheyenne. Once the horde is in their sights,” he shook his head, “we’ll only have a few days at best.”

  Mia nodded. The gesture was enough for Marcus to consider his task complete and remove himself from the room. She waited until he reached the hall before addressing the council. The news was difficult to swallow and it meant all of their other petty concerns were of little consequence. The glow of the sporadically placed lanterns and candles around the room was a strong reminder of why they couldn’t hide out in their underground hives until the horde passed them by.

  “I believe this narrows our options on a way forward,” Mia said. “If we can’t get access to hive five and get the generators back on, there will be no way to close off the topside access points.” Sometimes she impressed herself with her growing lexicon of old world technology. She didn’t have the slightest idea of how most of the devices they spoke about worked. “I don’t see how there’s any other way.” Her assertion threw the group into an instant debate.

  “We should leave now.”

  The shout was not as shocking as it once was. Hinnick was a towering man and once a member of the Denver Tribe, when there were still living people in Denver. His need to be the first to speak in any argument was well known to the rest of the tribal council. Mia had learned to deal with him, but her tolerance only went so far.

  “That’s not your decision to make.”

  The smooth response came from Hinnick’s usual adversary. Walker was a stark contrast to Hinnick in every way. His cleanly shaven head and dark brown skin appeared to purposefully standout against Hinnick’s shoulder-length dreadlocks and pasty white complexion. Mia admired Walker’s resolve, never losing his temper in any situation. His selection as the representative from the safe sector was for obvious reasons.

  “Let’s try and remain calm,” Mia said, urging the two to retake their seats. “I did not mean that we have no choice on how to go forward, but I do think this limits what we can and can’t do.”

  The two men eyed one another a moment longer before sitting down. Mia tried to think of a way to keep the conversation going in a more peaceful manner. The oldest member of the council spoke up before she could continue.

  “We have to do what is best for everyone,” Sara said. “With such little time, we will need to decide quickly then put all of our efforts into ensuring the safety of this tribe.”

  Sara was like a second mother to Mia. She’d been an integral part of the formation of the tribe and its council. Mia looked around the room and watched Sara’s words do their part. She waited until the hovering sense of confrontation dissipated.

  “Then let’s get to it.”

  ♦

  “How are you going to convince Walker that he’ll need to evacuate?”

  Asher’s question was a good one. The council meeting ended without much success. Mia was happy there was no more yelling, but getting them
all to agree felt beyond her reach. She looked over her shoulder to make sure none of the other council members was within earshot. It had become customary for her to confide in Asher after the daily assembly and today was no different. The young engineer carried a candle near his waist, the soft glow of the light providing the view of the long hall back to their personnel quarters.

  “It won’t be easy,” Mia admitted then let out a long sigh. “The people of the safe sector barely listen to a word the council says.”

  The safe sector was a name given to a select group of survivors within hive three. The tribal council initially believed they’d all died after the detonation of the compound’s defense system. It took a month to dig out the underground connection tunnels between hives four and three and then it was discovered that not only were the people within the safe sector alive, but they still had power.

  The initial encounter nearly started a war. The people of the safe sector had lived within their elaborate protected-shelter for decades, most of them never knowing what it was like to go above ground. Their history contained minor details about the infection that wiped out most of the people on earth and they knew nothing of the walking dead. They still didn’t believe the commission that once ruled the entire Canaan compound and all its hives played a part in manipulating them and were using other survivors as slave labor or worse.

  “Walker is more open to outside information than he was when he became a member of the council,” Asher said. “I think he trusts you.”

  Mia wasn’t so sure.

  “I still believe the only true way to convince him is to get him to go topside and see for himself.” Even as she said it, Mia knew it was practically impossible. The people of the safe sector had developed their own pseudo religious view of the world above ground. “The truth is they don’t need to go.”

  “If we’re going to act like we’re all a part of the same tribe,” Asher said, “then we have to make decisions in that manner.” The frustration in his voice was easy to hear. “If they want to stay here and die in their ignorance, then so be it.”